As Endearing as Homerroids.

Ok I'll probably edit this post that nobody will admit to reading. This is about the Simpson's scene-it, we're all old hands at scene it in ower house and imagine the disappointment when we cracked open the box expecting some charming little pewter objet d'oh only to find some incredibly un-American *snigger* crappy plastic pieces. Honestly folks it'd feel classier if they supplied an inside out raincoat and out-of-date prawns to play with.

When You Don't Know Anybody or Anything You Have to Make it Up

Documents leaked from the EU's premier brick wall against which to bang your head, the Lisbon Implementation whilst Maintaining a Pretence of Fair, Amiable Governance, have shown, that in the event of another No vote by those 'bloody ungrateful paddies,' Brussel's Satsumas have not ruled out the Unclear Option.

This will involve the guaranteed, one hundred percent dismissal of the result (on the grounds that they didn't win) and the deployment of GPS guided stern looks and tutting barrages (of a ferocity not seen in civilised society since Mrs O'Murphy twice won the big prize down at the bingo hall where her son was manager) against all parties who supported the No Vote until they slink shamefacedly away and reconsider the concept of 'democratic will; as it should apply to the union'.

Apart from the Grandmother market likely experiencing a flurry of panic selling just prior to any pro Union news stories in the MSM the man on the street can expect the continued non-creation of the office of Feuhrer to continue to have absolutely no noticeable effect on his day to day life (why change a good thing?), unless he is naive enough to purchase some French cheese from one of those poxed up weekly Euro markets, although this has long been a constant peril for the unwary or adventurous shopper and those darn Frenchies were probably already spitting in it before you voted No the first time.

After a decent period of time (although achieving any semblance of decency will likely require a total reality inversion after already ignoring the result twice), strategists will decide whether they try to bribe, delude or just scare the bejayzus out of the Irish when another referendumb is scheduled...

BBC Runs Interference?

Everybody should have an auntie as staunchly loyal as that wayward scamp the Labour party has, even if that relation has to ride roughshod over a Royal Charter as they defend them.

They spend the first 8 paragraphs of the latest update laying out the executive's defence, add a light sprinkling of Tory and Lib-Dem opinion before sneaking in Gordon Brown's alibi. As a final flourish they downplay the role of Attorney General and whip out the wooden spoon as they tag some 3rd rate blog grade spin the bottle speculation on the end of a serious news story in an attempt to diminish the whole affair.

Of course this is a third rate blog with a deeply ingrained cynical streak so I might be inadvertently short changing our much vaunted public service broadcasting corporation...

Who Are These People?

I'd like to pull together the recent stories about teaching 5 year old kids to masturbate and the Independent Safeguard Authority's efforts to ensure unsavoury characters are not allowed access to young children as I wonder to myself whether all people involved in dreaming up these questionable edicts in the UNHCR have been vetted for suitability.

Oh what the heck, I've just come over all belt and braces. Let's run a check on every person with a connection to a child focused quango or government department to be on the safe side. The influence they wield over our children's personal development in some incredibly sensitive ways (allbeit at arms length) is considerable and I for one would feel somewhat reassured to know that the criminal records and personal circumstances of all personnel have been thoroughly checked...

A Real Bronx Cheer

Fricken amazing isn't it. You pay for Boris Johnson to visit NY during these straitened times and he comes back with the idea that you should be paying to visit museums (just when you're counting the pennies) coz they are not a luxury-?? I'm sure one of them is going to smile so wide they disappear eventually when they think about the gift that keeps on giving.

Reading the story it would seem you would have got away with not feeling pressured into paying for stuff that's free if it weren't for those pesky 'cynical' kids questioning the value of not charging a museum admission fee. Although politicians have been at pains to show they really do take on board what young people say recently, which is a little disturbing after twelve years of Labour education policy...

Bumpf

I guess when your Technicolour tirades look as scruffy as an unmade bed and read as prettily as arf a sheep sloshing around a fish tank parody would be a bit of an anti-climax. Mind you I'm surprised you can even see 'em from all the way up there...

Sick, Sad World pt 1

Now I'm not a big city lawyer (ok so I'm not a small town lawyer either but I always wanted to say it...sadly I don't own a waistcoat to hook my thumbs in either so you'll just have to imagine that too) but I find agony aunt tv distasteful in the extreme, traipsing these mentally, morally and aesthetically challenged genetic train wrecks and their (occasionally) heartfelt anguish and personal problems across our screens for the titillation of the viewer. I cannot find a single positive in the genre, from the 'contestant's' side they are being exploited, ridiculed and having their dirty laundry waved about the head of the host in a most condescending and insensitive manner with little pretense at ceremony to the derision of the audience. I mean if they haven't yet caught on that she is really a he or that all those explicit texts ain't from a mischievous workmate then I doubt even the studio lighting will be bright enough to penetrate the gloomy depths of their consciousness to where the knowledge that you really can't catch the clap from a toilet seat lurks unheeded.

The audience fair little better, regression techniques should only be performed by qualified hypnotherapists in controlled circumstances. A Few hunnert foaming at the mouth daytime tv watchers who seem to think they're watching a Roman gladiatorial battle instead of the smoking wreckage of some poor shmo's life cannot help them retain what little humanity there is left to them. D'you think they flush with embarrassment when they consider the entertainment value of their own dirty little secrets? I wonder if their rank hypocrisy weighs heavy upon their brow, if nightmares of being exposed so nakedly in front of a baying audience of their culturally beggared confederates ever plague them, if they ever spare an empathetic thought for the human fodder that make up their light entertainment. Are people truly so blinded by the glitter and glamour of daytime tv that they will debase themselves so publicly to get their 15 minutes of fame? Or are they just incredibly fucking stupid?

The women's mags are no better. You pay your 80p and roll up, roll up your own personal sideshow of miserable humanity to pop in your handbag to peruse in private over a cup of tea and a slice of cake or three. You can goggle at the 80lb tumour, gasp in terror with the woman who married a rapist, shed a tear at the plight of brave little Timmy and then have your heartstrings plucked into a symphony of light by the amazing story of the orphaned siblings who unknowingly spent their adult lives living just streets apart. *Ugh* emotional porn, so much less honest or personally rewarding than the regular kind...